Fire
by ZombieSam
Summary: When Emma's apartment building catches fire, what's a Captain to do?


**alright. it took me awhile, but i think i finally found a way back to you guys without my internet. it wasn't easy. it definitely isn't fast, and its trying my patience, but its worth it. anyway, i don't own OUAT, or Captain Swan.**

The billowing smoke from the center of the small town drew him from the solitude of his ship. His curiosity was piqued. Whatever could the sleepy residents be up to, and at this hour of the night. He was always alone to his musings by now, with nothing but the waves for company. But there was obviously something different about tonight, and he was curious as to what it was. Which led to his current doings: strolling through main street Storybrooke at - he glanced at the moon - approximately two thirty-five in the morning.

He drew nearer to Swan's dwelling, and he felt his stomach clench. Something was clearly wrong. He could hear the shouts, the cries, the urgency in the voices. Angry tongues of the fire leapt toward the stars, and his steps faltered. _Oh no._

There was a crowd lurking around the building. People rushed forward with buckets of water. Others had thick hoses attached to the funny red things that jutted from the walkways, spraying water in heavy streams at the burning building. There was no way his Swan was inside. She would be in the crowd somewhere, holding Henry, or throwing buckets and buckets at the inferno. So he scanned the mass of human flesh desperately, hoping for a flash of her golden locks, or her determined face.

"She's still inside, Captain," he glanced down at the watery eyed boy, fear gripping his heart. No. "They say they can't get to her. All the lower floors are destroyed. They say it's too dangerous to go in after my mom. She can't get herself out, either. She's started taking medicine to help her sleep." And he just hung his head, his shoulders shaking, anguished sobs ripping through him.

It was up to him then. He laid a brief and on the lad's head before he turned away. He scanned the buildings closest to hers, looking for the best route in, and started to climb. He could feel several pairs of eyes shift from the blaze to him, and he could hear Swan's mother shouting. None of it mattered. Either he would get her out of this, or he would die alongside her. That wasn't part of the plan, however.

As soon as he scaled the side of the building nearest Swan's abode, he started running. Arms and legs flailing, he launched himself across the gap, his hook catching the window sill of an unknown apartment. He nearly lost his hold when his still-bruised body slammed into the brick wall, but he was too determined to get to his princess to let something as trivial as broken ribs stop his from completing his mission. He was Captain _bloody_ Hook, after all. He always got his spoils.

Breaking the window without falling was a whole different task. The angle was awkward, and he had his strongest utensil dug three inches into the wood, holding his body to the building. So he settled for his opposite fist. _This is goina hurt._ He drew back as far as he could with his given position, and used every possible muscle in his arm to drive it forward enough to shatter the glass. They collided, and he could feel the bones shifting and snapping in his hand. The pain was instantaneous, but he knew he couldn't let that stop him any more than he could his ribs. He sucked in his breath, gripped the sill as hard as he could with his mangled hand, and heaved himself up. The pain-filled groan ripped itself from his chest, and he fell into the apartment more than anything.

The new pain pulsating through his body made his vision blurry. He lost track of how many times he stumbled and fell against the walls. What floor was he on? How many flights of stairs must he conquer before he reached his maiden? He didn't have the answer to any of his questions, so he did the only thing that he could. He began the painstaking ascent up, until he recognized where he was.

It felt like years and minutes before he reached the weathered door he had seen so many times before. The air was thick, and he was sweating in his leather coat. It had been a horrible idea not to shed it before the started his trek. He used his shoulder to bust the door down, knowing his swelling hand would be no use on the handle.

Her apartment was filled to the brim with smoke and fire, and he had to duck low to see anything. Everything that had become familiar to him was now just a swirling maze. He coughed against his arm, and moved as quickly as he could, searching the home for her. She was the only one bloody _foolish_ enough to get trapped inside a burning building. Yelling would be no use. Her lad had said something about a medicinal sleeping aid. He wasn't sure how strong the medicine was, but he figured it was great enough to keep her from her child.

He could have cried when he found her - he might have a little, though he would never admit it to anyone - , trapped in her room, drowsy as hell, and thinking she had no hope of escape. The flaming timber kept her at bay, but he wasted no more time jumping through them. They licked at the lapels of his coat, and once he was safely on the other side, with Swan in his sights, he swatted them out.

She looked astonished to see him, but it didn't last long. What he assumed was a mixture of her medicines and smoke inhalation had her slouching against the wall, and sliding forward. He jumped forward to catch her, and pulled her body close to his own. Using his hook, he draped her arm across his shoulders. His other arm snaked around her waist, and he tucked her against his side, holding her to him best he could. She would have to walk out of this as much as she could, and when she could walk no more, he would carry her the rest of the way.

As it turned out, she couldn't walk very far. By the time the reached the door of her apartment, he was practically dragging her. With a few quick adjustments, he had her in his arms, bridal style of all ways. The journey from her floor to the bottom wasn't a long one, but with the mixture of flames, and burning stairs, and an unconscious fully grown woman in his arms while he suffered through broken ribs and a shattered hand, it seemed to take days to make it to the lobby of the building.

Really, the experience wasn't as difficult as he had imagined it would be. The way the lad had went on about how dangerous the situation was, and that no one date try to fetch the beauty he held, he had anticipated rolling through walls of flames, and crawling under burning supports. Instead, he would escape with slightly damaged lungs and a broken hand, some agitated ribs, and a singed coat, and she with a slightly different list of injuries. But he had done nothing too difficult, nothing he was sure he hadn't already done in his 300 plus years of life, other than carry one Emma Swan from a burning building - something worthy of a kiss, or maybe something more.

Her family was waiting eagerly when he finally emerged, with her head tucked into his neck, her hair trapped between her body and his chest, both covered head to toe in soot. The Prince pushed past the men in helmets to run to his daughter, eyes lit with gratitude for the pirate he otherwise tolerated at best. But he had done something miraculous on that night, and saved his only daughter from certain death when no one else could - would - go after her. David merely nodded his head to the pirate, not needing to speak, and relieved the Captain of his burden. Despite the reaching flames behind him, he immediately missed her warmth. He followed behind at a much slower, much more painful pace, not willing to let her out of his sight. There was no telling what other troubles she would get herself into.

He watched carefully as they laid her on the moving bed, and strapped her into place. Her eyes flickered open as they did so, searching desperately for something. Her family surrounded her, but she still looked so lost. Even from where he stood, the crowd milling around him, he could see her trying to speak, trying to tell them what she wanted, and then they were all scanning the crowd. He figured she would be wanting Bae, and he turned to leave. He had an evening of rum and realigning bones ahead of him, and though he didn't fancy leaving her to the care of strangers, he knew her family would do what was best for her.

His eyes lead the way for his feet. He was eager to be gone before they found the lad's father, and he was brought to her side for yet another bittersweet reunion. He hadn't made it far when two different sized pairs of hands grabbed him by both arms. He tensed, expecting a fight, and turned slowly to catch the gaze of the Prince and his grandson respectively. They must have surely come to give him thanks for the safe return of Swan, and that his services were no longer needed. That was how it went, he knew.

"What is it, mate. I've got a long night of this," he held his hand level with his face as demonstration. "Ahead of me. So make it quick so I can get bloody wasted and smash it back in place." The look on David's face was almost comical enough to laugh at, while Henry looked intrigued. Neither bothered with a response, though, and started tugging him back through the crowd. "What the bloody hell are you doing?! I need my rum, you bloody idiots!" He resisted, struggling to break free. One never knew what the Charming family had in mind.

They released him once they had returned him to Emma, and the three of them made short order of stepping away from the couple. She looked lost for a moment, unsure of what to say. He didn't blame her. It wasn't every day you were trapped inside of a burning building.

"I-"

"You-"

She attempted a chuckle, and winced in pain as it grated against her smoke damaged throat. He gestured with his hook, unwilling to let her see his injuries. She looked terribly uncomfortable, but at least they had removed the restraints. Her wishes, he was sure. She was all for restraint, as long as she was the one doing the restraining. "I just wanted to thank you, Killian." His head jerked up to stare at her. She had never called him by his given name before. Even with her voice as raspy and damaged as it was, he wanted nothing more than to hear her say it for the rest of their lives. "You saved my life, and there's no way I could ever repay that." He opened his mouth, ready to argue that she owed him nothing, but her arm shot up to cover it, and once she was sure he was quieted, slid to his arm, where she gripped his forearm. "I didn't think anything of death until it stared me in the face tonight. I always thought I was ready for it, bring it on, I'll go easy. And there I was, waiting on the fire to corner me and burn me alive, or for the smoke to suffocate me, and I realized I _wasn't _ready to go. There's so much left I want - need - to do. And I think I'll start with this."

She tugged quick and sharp on his arm, knocking him off balance and making him fall toward her. He brought both hand and hook up to stop himself from falling on her. His broken hand hit against the table, but he didn't have time to yelp in pain before her arms were around his neck, and her lips crushed his. His body pulsed, his mind blanked, and all he knew was that he was finally kissing Emma Swan.

They broke apart, panting for air, the crowd of people cheering around them. Her eyes twinkled, and he felt himself grin despite the pain shooting through his body from his hand colliding with the bed. "What the bloody hell just happened, love?" She grinned. "Exactly, love." Her hand slid gently to his wrist, and he cringed. "Now, be a good lad, and come with me to the hospital to get this fixed." Her voice dropped to a whisper only he could hear. "You'll be needing this hand soon."

He laughed out loud, mumbling about a "bloody minx" under his breath.


End file.
